Shades of Gray
by geocentricity
Summary: Things don't always go quite according to plan, and certain circumstances are impossible to avoid. Riku's defeat by Roxas at The World That Never Was leads to a strange realization that they are both searching for the same thing. Sora. [no real pairings]


**Chapter 1: Contratemps**

**Preface:**

Things sometimes don't go quite according to plan, and certain circumstances are always inevitable to prevent. Riku's untimely defeat in The World That Never Was leads to a quite strange and unforseeable turn of events as he discovers that the lines between Darkness and Light are blurred even more than he thought

**Pairings:**

**None really** - the **AkuRoku dynamic** here is based entirely on **friendship**, no matter what subtext you may squeeze out of it. There are **_slight slight slight _SoRiku hints** if you really want to take it that way, but again, it's more of a subtle subtext/believe-what-you-want type of deal. The main relationship focus is the strange cooperation that arises between Roxas and Riku as they find that they have a common goal, with **possible RikuRoku undertones**.

**Warnings:**

The Deep Dive **fight scene** is **pretty gory** (well, relatively, I suppose) If you really don't like blood or something, then I supposed you could just skip those bits or don't read entirely. However I felt that it was a critical part of the story and should be written out as tastefully as I could manage. \

Minor **minor language**. And I apologize fully beforehand for the long paragraphs. There will eventually be more dialogue and less thinking/fighting, but the thinking/fighting pattern is more or less what this intro chapter is all about.

Anyway, as you are well aware, the characters are not mine. Please read and (hopefully) enjoy the beginning of my epic(?) tale!

* * *

"_Your mind's made up?"_

As the sound of footsteps grew less and less audible in the distance, Axel stood there, still thinking about what he had chosen to do – or in this case, not to do.

So he had lied. Blatantly. It wasn't like he had never lied before, and it wasn't even really a lie. He couldn't be absolutely sure that the other members wouldn't kill him for betraying them… it definitely wasn't out of the scope of possibility. The remaining members had become pretty volatile after more than a third of the whole set had died in that miserable castle. In Axel's opinion, they just needed a good reason or a suitable person to lash out at. A betrayal was the perfect situation for something to go horribly wrong.

No one else seemed to realize how much the Organization really needed Roxas. Each one of them was too caught up in their own personal intrigues to actually do something to benefit the group. The lack of a centralized, organized power was definitely one of their fatal flaws. So far, none of them had really realized that if they just stopped playing their games and actually worked _together_, they might actually accomplish something.

But he really had no idea as to what that "thing" could be. He couldn't deny the fact that he was curious about the whole "having a heart" thing, though he wasn't sure he really wanted one. After all, he had lived a while without one so far, so what difference could it make?

"Lived."

That implied that he existed in the first place, which, on a technicality, he didn't. Really, the only reason they were fighting for hearts was to assure their own existence. They might be called "Nobodies," but he viewed himself as far more than simply "nothing." There was a subtle but distinct difference.

_"All right, then. I know you won't listen to anything else I have to say, so just go."_

If Roxas wanted to go and get himself killed, he had no right to intervene. Hell, more power to the kid. It would be Roxas's own fault for being irrational and somewhat stupid, and no cloud of guilt would hang over _his_ head.

At least that was how he had wanted to regard the situation. Roxas had always been stubborn to the point of rigidity and now was no different, even if the circumstances were. He knew - he _knew_ that nothing he could say, not even anything he could do would make him change his mind.

Every other time he had given in, trying to put friendship in front of everything else. At least it had given him a chance to get away from the never-ending plots and schemes between members that he had no intention of participating in any longer. What he hadn't realized – until now – was how empty that relationship had been.

Hollow.

Just like him, he had slowly begun to realize. He was heartless in almost every sense of the word, and using the word "friendship" to describe their relationship was a optimistic approximation at best. How could someone, something like him even be capable of a thing like friendship?

Roxas at least had hope, he supposed. Axel could only imagine that Roxas had at least had memories or a vague feeling of what being a "somebody" was actually like, and envied him slightly that he still had an Other.

It went without saying that without a heart, any kind of emotional attachment, not even mentioning love or friendship, was out of the question. He had never had anyone to love in the first place and the only person that he had ever felt any kind of strong emotion toward had just cast him off like he had never even mattered.

Whether it was hollow, impossible or all in his head, there was no way that he was going to leave Roxas behind for such a stupid reason. Just because Roxas had left him didn't mean that he had to turn his back and run away like a coward. He knew himself well enough to realize that sometimes he just didn't know when to just give it up – a trait that had usually gotten him into more trouble than it was worth. After all, he didn't really have a hell of a lot to live for, so he figured he might as well make his time entertaining if nothing else.

He wondered what Roxas thought he could accomplish by acting the way he was. If he had planned on being some kind of martyr for his cause, that meant that there had to be people that supported him in the first place. Normally, he would be first in line but this time Axel failed to see what his cause even really was. Sure, answers were nice to have, but then again, so was a head.

A halfhearted quest searching for something so vague, if not completely nonexistent, like "answers" seemed like a preposterous idea. He hadn't even planned out anything very well. With his dual Keyblades, Roxas had already attracted more Heartless and lesser Nobodies in the City than Axel had thought he could handle by himself. He considered that thought, and came to the conclusion that perhaps he knew far less about Roxas than he thought he did.

Whatever he knew or didn't know about the kid at this point seemed irrelevant to the matter at hand. If he abandoned him now, he got the feeling that they wouldn't be seeing each other again for quite a while, if at all. On the other hand, if he did what Roxas wanted him to do, there would be a clean break, no strings attached. He wouldn't ever see him again, and would for the most part, probably never feel bad about it.

After all, it was more than likely going to be the last thing that Roxas ever asked of him. It was hard to deny that. After all the sacrifice that he made for the sake of his friendship, one more request should have been nothing.

He brought himself slowly to an upright position, getting up from leaning against a concrete beam. After all the times he had given in to Roxas's constant albeit trivial demands, he felt like he was due for something completely and utterly selfish, even if it was petty.

Axel felt almost obligated to do so after giving and giving and giving and getting receiving little more than the occasional tentative smile in return. It was puzzling why he so eager to risk his own life as well as Roxas's when he had just realized how little he had to fight for. Even he had supposedly wasted his time, he still thought of Roxas as his best friend.

"Friendship."

He supposed it was the closest word that could approximate the relationship. Their bond seemed to have had a much stronger connection behind it than any of the otiose relationships had had tried to make with the others in the past. When they had left, died or been murdered, he hadn't really felt much emotion one way or the other about it. Somehow, now it was different; he certainly _felt_ different.

Just then, something clicked in his brain. That was exactly it. Roxas _was_ different than the rest of them. Roxas could at least seek comfort in thinking that he had a purpose. However, as to what that purpose was, Axel didn't know and didn't really care. This was the way he saw the situation: either a) Roxas would leave and never come back, or b) he would be killed in some way or another. Neither particularly appealed to him. Either way, he had already resolved to go after him.

* * *

With what seemed like a rude push from behind, he jumped out of the Darkness surrounding him into….more Darkness. 

_I swear…that is the **last** time…_

For his first experience in the Corridors by himself, it had been rather unpleasant. It was just as bad, if not worse, as the constant hectoring that he had endured in his journeys through the _real_ Darkness. The other presence in his mind had always been unsettling, starting from the beginning in Hollow Bastion, but he had learned to get used to it and close it out of his mind. Unfortunately, he had had to willingly let this one in to tell it where he wanted to go, and then convince it to actually take him there.

On the whole, it had been more annoying than difficult. Instead of the alluring, soothing tone he was used to ignoring, his experience with the Darkness in the Corridors had revealed a wicked sense of playful sarcasm. Upon reaching solid ground, he had decided that Darkness that just wouldn't shut the hell up was much, _much _worse than the kind he could just tune out.

He couldn't be sure if it was always like that, or if it had just been extra aggravating just to piss him off. What he did know was that he wouldn't be leaving without obtaining what he had come for. There was no way in hell that he was using that horrible method of transportation again unless he absolutely needed to.

Maybe he should have listened to the old man some more before running off on his own. He sighed and let out a short, cynical laugh. That was just like him. Go rushing in to play the hero and save the day, quickest route possible, no questions asked. Always "the end justifies the means," never "let's think this over first."

In a time that seemed like a part of a different life, it was exactly what he had accused _him_ of. Funny how it had turned out to be he himself that had carried that trait all along. It was bordering on bitterly ironic now that he could see that that was exactly what he had done – and why he was here and in this mess to begin with.

_This is stupid._

Wallowing in self-loathing wasn't going to get him anywhere. He had learned that quickly in his stay in the Realm of Darkness. It wouldn't get him back to his islands, wouldn't get his friends back; in fact, it wouldn't help much of anything save for his ever-strengthening guilt-complex.

It would be best to push all of his thoughts concerning things other than the task at hand off to a very, very distant corner of his mind. The old man had said that the key to restoring his memories successfully was to be found here, but all he saw was a dark sky, a gathering storm, glaring fluorescent lighting and a lot of concrete.

Throwing his doubt aside, he figured the geezer wouldn't have purposely sent him off on a wild goose chase, which meant that what he was looking for must be here somewhere. He ran a gloved hand halfway through his hair, pulling his head back to look upward and groaned slightly in agitation. The heavy cloak and cumbersome boots were starting to get uncomfortable, but the old man had insisted on outfitting him with these clothes after he had resolved to come to this world.

All the black seemed a little… over the top now that he had seen the bleak world. The last thing this place needed was more black darkness. He brought his hand back down to his side, leaving his hair slightly mussed. A few wispy strands of thin, argent hair fell lifelessly over his eyes and he blinked.

_A key to his recovery, huh?_

An interesting choice of words, no doubt used on purpose.

"Key."

Had he meant that literally or metaphorically? Hopefully it was both. A physical key would be much easier to find than some random object that could figuratively be considered a "key," even though he _did_ want to help…

_And there I go again…_

Out of the three of them, it was beginning to seem like _he_ was the lazy one. He let a careless grin creep over his face, reminiscing about the time far past when he had accused the other two of being the lazy ones in their little trio. Catching himself in a slightly catatonic state, he snapped out of the memory and quickly neutralized his expression.

_A key, a key, I'm looking for a key. _

Peering down the various alleyways it looked like the city went on forever, to the horizon and beyond. It was most likely not going to do him any good if he went wandering around the city with no idea where he was going. He would probably end up wandering around in circles for an eternity. If there was a way to get up to higher ground maybe he could see where he was, or where he wanted to go.

He slowed and furtively looked at the world surrounding him. Most of the buildings near him were tall, but none seemed to ever have any doors. It was puzzling really. Who could live in an apartment or work at an office with no doors? However the answer to his trivial albeit intriguing question had nothing really to do with the task at hand, so he continued down the road on his search for what he was really here for.

The uneven path led him past many a neon sign proclaiming "Inn" or "Bar," and these few establishments showed their doors willingly. However none of the doors below the placards would open when he tried them, even with force.

The inside of every building was eerily washed out with a bright yellow-white light that he could barely see filtering through the grimy, sordid-looking windows. Taking a sleeve of his cloak, he rubbed a bit of the filth off of a windowpane, but even then all he could see was a faint luminescence emanating from the interior, with no sign or sound of life or movement.

The more he explored the city, the more it began to give him the chills. He hadn't run across a single person since his arrival and was starting to wonder if there was anyone in this city at all. It seemed to be perpetually night, which added to the unnatural creepiness. Shaking his head as if to shake the idea out of it, he tried to convince himself that he had just happened to come at night. However with every step he took, he got a stronger and stronger feeling that maybe logic just didn't apply to this place, wherever it was.

As the gravel crunched beneath his feet, he couldn't help but notice just how eerily silent it was. Every time he walked past a light, he realized that he could hear the high-pitched buzzing sound that the fluorescent lights emitted. The longer he continued on, the more aware and the more acute his senses became. He could hear the pulse of his heart beating in time with his step, and was constantly glancing around him for a sign of any other life.

Though he hadn't seen anyone or anything so far on his journey, he got the discomforting feeling that someone was watching him and it was making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Involuntarily, he felt his pulse pick up and his step quicken. He took the front of his cloak and pulled it outward a little to give the top of his chest and neck that didn't have a cloth lining over it some air. Despite how stifling the cloak was already, he pulled the heavy leather hood over his head and refrained from looking backwards. Somehow he felt that if he turned around just to make _sure_ that nothing was following him it would be admitting defeat.

_Wait a second. Who am I kidding? I'm being ridiculous again._

There was nothing following him, nothing watching him, nothing behind him. Stopping briefly, he let out a breath that he hadn't been aware he was holding, and then rolled his eyes at his own gullibility. He was letting fear get the better of him again. For being nearly seventeen, and a mature seventeen-year-old at that, he shouldn't be afraid of something so…so _childish_. He was just like any other, normal, adult human being, and there was no reason for the strange shadows that the buildings cast or the strange silence to freak him out so much.

Except they did. And no matter how rationally he tried to view the situation, there was no denying that this world was just downright _creepy_. The sooner he could leave the better, so he kept on walking. Walking to where…well, that was a different question. By now, since it was pretty clear he was the only living, breathing thing for miles, he was just kind of hoping that something would come his way.

Either that or convince himself of some kind of excuse to leave. It was too bad that it was going to have be a pretty damn good reason - say, threat of death - to convince him to turn tail and run the hell away from this place. This was one thing he was not going to let his resolve waver on. If he failed at this, he might as well give up and just go back home. There wouldn't be much hope anyway.

He wondered if there had ever really been much hope for him and his fool's quest in the first place. Reanalyzing the circumstances, his cynicism was telling him that Gramps had just sent him off to do the dirty work while he sat safe and cozy in front of his beloved computer screens. He knew all too well that everyone had their own agenda, and as he had recently discovered, most were not willing to let him in on their plans. After all, it was much easier to just use him as a tool than complicate matters with an accomplice. Though, he couldn't really blame them because he was sure he would have done the same.

In the end he supposed that he was just another snot-nosed kid messing up the master plan of his older and wiser counterparts. It continued to bother him slightly that he had been more or less blackmailed into his position as lackey, but at the time he hadn't seen any other option. The situation had pretty much been either join up or drop out, and there was no way he was going to abandon his cause that easily. It was worth sacrificing a little self-pride for, and after what had transpired between the two of them before, he wasn't sure he even had any self-pride left to sacrifice.

_It was all for him…  
…right?_

He refused to think that the sole motive for his actions was atonement. Sure, that might be a pleasant byproduct and something that he had begun to want even more desperately each day, but he would never let himself think of it as his driving force. This time around, it was because he genuinely cared about doing the right thing. At least he hoped.

The unfamiliar sound of his boot hitting hard pavement broke him from his pensive thoughts. He had walked a long way, further than he had intended to, and was unsure now of where he was or which direction exactly he had come from. Looking out in front of him, he saw that he had reached some kind of plaza. He noted the way various roads converged here, or perhaps radiated from like spokes on a wheel. Wherever this was that he had ended up seemed like as good a place as any to start searching wholeheartedly. If so many roads came together here, then it was undoubtedly a place of at least some significance.

Meaningless advertisements seemed endless here, lining every surface that a neon sign could be mounted on. The buzz and glow of all the concentrated florescence was grating on his senses. He moved in closer to the plaza, and saw what was truly the focal point of the square. A massive skyscraper loomed overhead, dwarfing all of the other buildings that he had thought of as "tall" earlier.

He started to count the number of floors several times, but repeatedly lost count. Continuing upwards with his eyes, he noted several more large screens that he presumed had once been for more advertisements. Then, on the very top of the monolith, he saw his golden opportunity. A small metal platform rested on the roof of the building, as if it had been built just for him. He glanced down at where the entrance should be. There were doors. He smiled and headed to the staircases flanking the entrance. Somehow he got the feeling that his luck was about to change.

Tentatively, he laid a gloved hand on the bar handle to one of the doors of the building. He tensed for a second before pushing gently. When the door didn't budge, he gradually applied more force. With a sudden jerk, the door unstuck and he almost tripped over the threshold.

Batting the cloud of dust that he had disturbed away from his face, he looked around cautiously. The sudden change from dark to light burned his eyes temporarily, and he wondered why the building still had all of its lights on in the first place. From the way that his boots made footprints in the dust accumulated on the tile floor to the way everything was so sterile and clean looking revealed that the building probably hadn't seen a human presence in years, if not decades.

It seemed like a typical office lobby; there was a large, round cherry table with a vase of fake flowers to match, a receptionist and security officer's desk off to the left, three elevator shafts to the right. The absolute stillness and silence of the room made it feel like a place time had forgotten. Curiously, he dragged a finger on the round table as he walked over to investigate the large L-shaped desk. When he lifted up his finger, he looked at the dust he had accumulated with slight disdain but more indifference before brushing his fingers together to get rid of it.

_One of those places that time forgot, huh?_

Considering that it looked like the building had been vacant for an indeterminable length of time, he decided against trying the elevators. Just because the overhead lights were on didn't mean that the electricity couldn't give out at any second. In fact, he had no idea how the lights could still be on in the first place. He decided that he didn't really need to know. Stairs seemed to be a much better, much safer option at the time.

He paused at the entry to the stairwell. Though he found it unlikely that he was going to start opening doors and have dead bodies fall out on top of him like a horror movie, he still opened the door to the staircase cautiously. It slammed loudly behind him and Riku shuddered. In comparison to the silence surrounding him, it resonated, echoing up the stairwell.

Mounted on the wall beside was a small metal plaque, which under closer inspection turned out to be a floor guide. After a quick glance at the total number of floors, he began to think that taking the elevator might have been worth the risk after all.

* * *

The rain had begun to fall slowly at first. A single drop fell on his eyelash and spilled onto his cheek. Startled by the raindrop, he blinked but made no other visible movement. He stood there and waited patiently, and dropped both Keyblades down to his sides. A steady sheet began to fall from the sky. It bounced off of his jacket and created a mist of spray around him, leaving only a distorted pattern of moisture on the leathery surface. He watched the runoff slowly gather in small puddles at his feet. Each successive drop pounded the surface of the puddle, turning the placid surface of the concrete into a turbulent pool of water. 

He let his shoulders slowly fall back from their tense position and looked upward as droplets spilled from the featureless sky. His hood no longer protected his face, and the water stung his eyes when the occasional drop landed in one of them. Still, whenever this happened his reaction was little more than a blink. The sheer irony of the situation was simply astounding.

It seemed like even the sky was mocking their insipid existence. If even the sky could take the opportunity to shed tears, then he felt that it was more of "something" than he was. Though, he considered, there had never really been anything that he had ever felt a great need to cry over. He was "nobody" and it wasn't even worth it for him to waste his time on emotions that were of no consequence to anyone, even himself.

Others had called him distant, cold, and apathetic but he had always wondered how he could be any other way. Axel had tried to force some semblance of useless emotion on him, and he had humored the man for the time being, but now the charade was up. It was no longer advantageous for him to even pretend to care when he knew that he had to find answers for himself.

That's what he had been searching for – answers. The thought had just occurred to him recently that maybe he didn't even know what the questions were. If he didn't even know what he wanted to look for, how was he supposed to find it? The rain fell harder, and he just closed his eyes and sighed. It didn't matter, none of it mattered anymore. He just needed to…get away.

This was probably going to be his last and only chance. He had been preparing his departure for weeks now, but small kinks had already become cumbersome knots in his carefully planned procedure. First of all, he had definitely not planned on confronting Axel before he left.

He, just like the rest of the members of the Organization, wasn't even supposed to have noticed that he had gone missing. It had been a grave miscalculation of character on his part, but there was nothing that he could do about it now. And though he had tried to keep their conversation as short and concise as possible, he was pretty sure that the other man hadn't taken the hint. He hadn't said anything as blatant or as harsh as "Go away," or "Mind your own damn business," and now was almost wishing that he had.

As long as the idiot didn't come chasing after him, things might work out after all. Even if the Organization did hunt him down, he had decided that it was worth it just to escape from the walls of that sterile castle and the claustrophobic high-rises of this world. Of course, chances were more than good that Axel had just been pulling his usual half-truths out of the air to get him to stay.

What it came down to was that he just didn't care any more. If all we was good for was happening to be the "real" Keyblade master's other half, he felt like he was justified in believing that he had no obligations to anyone. After all, if he was just a tool, what he thought or believed was really of no consequence.

He didn't see the point in putting up with the other members any longer. There were no benefits to belonging to the Organization any more, and probably never had been in the first place. He had already been told the story of his existence; that had been common knowledge to the rest of them since his initiation and to him for at least a month now. What he wanted to know now was the 'why' behind the shallow, insubstantial answers he had been given.

There was a soft squishing sound and the pitter-patter of several pairs of small feet behind him, and his focus shifted from his thoughts to the noises in the background.

"_Kyuu, kyuu..."_

He sensed others emerge from the pavement as the soft cooing noises grew steadily louder. Large buggy yellow eyes stared back at him as he turned around, gleaming in spite of the lack of light. He raised his Keyblades off of the ground in apprehension, and the first Heartless lunged at him. A bright purple light flared around him, repelling the first foolish ones that had charged at him.

However the effect wore off quickly, and as others soon followed suit he had to react defensively. He turned around with carefully conducted and practiced fluidity, vanquishing everything that challenged him without a single thought. The more Shadows he destroyed, the more seemed to spawn from the Darkness. He charged through the crowd and slew anything that got in his path. Crossing his arms in front of his body and then heaving them out to his sides, he created a smooth flow of attack that made it look like it was something so natural to him that he barely had to think.

Shadows leapt at him from all directions, and he jumped up to meet them. With a single stroke, he destroyed every attacker, and landed soundly with two feet on the concrete. Taking the initiative on those still surrounding him, he took out a wide swath of Heartless to his right in a few carefully concerted strokes. However, after his advance he suddenly found himself in the thick of Heartless with almost no room to move.

As he sliced through the swarm closest to him, his muscles started to feel the faint burn of slight overexertion, and he realized just how hard he had begun to breathe. He knew he couldn't hold out through the time it would take to kill the entire horde of Heartless, no matter how effortless they were to destroy. Thinking quickly, he sprung from the ground, and leapt to the platform in front of the entrance to the building. When Roxas landed back on his feet, he paused for a split second and looked out on the scene before him. Hundreds of yellow eyes and soft cooing voices filled the plaza in front of him.

These Heartless….what were they fighting for? Why were they pursuing him?

Though he held two of the legendary Keyblades in his hands, there was no great heart to accompany them. They were fighting blindly, shackled by instinct and desire. He laughed acrimoniously, seeing something he hadn't realized before. Him, the Organization, these Heartless. They were much more similar to each other than any of them would ever admit.

The Organization seemed to be bound by the same principles. Ones that are incomplete wish to be whole, and that tantalizing idea compels them to search for the missing pieces, just like those without hearts would do anything in their power to attain one. Bitterly, he realized that the same things bound him all too well. He was naturally curious, and the need to find out the answers to his questions had all but consumed him for the last few weeks.

His weapon was the Keyblade.  
Why had it been given to him? Why was he the chosen one?

He was number thirteen in an organization of Nobodies.  
Why did these "Nobodies" exist? What was their purpose?

Xemnas and the others had been searching for what they called "Kingdom Hearts."  
Why did they need hearts?

The lot of them seemed to be doing just fine without them. He wondered just what exactly would change about them if they had hearts. With a heart, he supposed, unwanted feelings or rash ideas could be blamed on it. It was really just a way to circumvent the consequences of their actions, a convenient scapegoat, and it was something that he did not want to have a part in. He did not want nor need a heart. After all, he had just been told that that was what Sora was there for. If he was part of Sora, and Sora had a heart, then by reflexive logic he had at least a piece of that heart within him – or perhaps at least the capability to have one.

All at once, something dawned on him. Perhaps his questions didn't _have_ answers. Maybe the answers didn't _have_ questions. Silently, he wondered if anything that he had been thinking was true or not.

* * *

At last, he opened the door and a refreshing gust of cool air flowed over his face and through his hair. Never thinking that he would have enjoyed the cold before, he let his head fall backwards and his arms spread outward and simply stood there for longer than he thought. While he was standing there, a fine mist of rain began to fall. Rejuvenated, he sucked in a breath of new, fresh air and let his muscles relax. The rain increased in intensity, and became a pleasant shower. Even if it was cold and raining, he was just glad to be out of the creepy building. 

Remembering his task at hand, he moved closer to the edge of the platform and looked out onto the city beneath him. Even from this height, the lifeless buildings continued all the way to the horizon. He had no idea how or where he was supposed to find this "key," and was starting to doubt that there even was one. Maybe he had ended up on the wrong world. The Corridors were notoriously tricky to navigate.

He looked back down at the plaza beneath him and saw a distinctly human-shaped shadow on the pavement, created by the light streaming from the windows of the skyscraper. The person walked slowly to the center of the square and stopped. The rain grew steadily more forceful until it was a downpour.

Out of nowhere he heard the faint cry of a Heartless, and watched as dozens of buggy, round yellow eyes rose from the pavement. If he had had a weapon, he would have jumped down immediately. However, he didn't, and was forced to remain passive to the presence of Heartless. The person standing in the middle of them seemed to be oblivious to them, too.

Just as the first group of Heartless leapt at him, and just as Riku thought the person was done for, a bright purple light drove them away. It burned into the pavement surrounding him like fire, starting at one point and drawing a shape around him.

A key and a heart.

He could barely make out two metal blades, one light, the other dark, in his hands.

_It can't be._

* * *

As he had been standing there in his reverie, both Keyblades had fallen to his sides. Sensing a moment of vulnerability, a pack of Neo Shadows took advantage of his state to surge towards him from all directions. He snapped out of it when he saw several leap in front of him and quickly disposed of them. As the others came at him from both sides, he sashayed back and forth in loose semicircles, bringing both blades three-quarters of a turn, then turning around and bringing them back the other way. The way he moved was close to entrancing, almost like a flawless dance. 

In the time that he had taken to annihilate the Heartless surrounding him, another wave had already begun to approach him. For any Heartless that he killed, there was easily twenty more scurrying toward him.

He was caught off guard as one jumped on his back. Throwing it off violently, he spun full circle with both arms extended, effectively clearing a small piece of space around him. Most of his efforts were in vain. The Heartless swarmed around him, leaving him barely room to move an arm. The only direction he could move was up, and in an act of desperation he jumped as high as he could. The Shadows followed.

Flailing in the air, he managed to kill several Heartless, but more leapt up to meet him, falling down from the skies like the rain droplets that landed on his face. Before he fell back down to the ground, he decided he might as well take as many out with him as possible. In a sudden burst of either inspiration or madness, he threw Oblivion towards the melancholy sky in the hope that it would destroy at least a few of the little buggers on the way down.

He landed solidly on his feet with Oathkeeper still in his left hand, slashing wildly at Heartless. Holding out his right hand for balance, he waited for the other weapon to fall back effortlessly into his hand. What he hadn't anticipated was the chance that Oblivion might not fall right back into the palm of his hand. When the blade didn't come back to him as expected, and he didn't hear or see it fall anywhere around him, he looked up.

* * *

Axel took a step to run after him, and then stopped abruptly to reassess what his motives really were. 

It just this one thing that he wouldn't, couldn't let slide this time, and he found himself subconsciously rationalizing the hell out of it so that he wouldn't be forced to face the real reasons.

The Organization needed him for Kingdom Hearts.  
Right.

The fact that he might die doing something stupid didn't phase him at all.  
Really.  
Not at all.

Everything was strictly business. Even if he had already left this world, it was no big deal. He'd just have to hunt him down, force him into coming back.  
Sure.

He didn't want the little brat to go around spilling his guts about the goings-on in the Organization.  
Of course not.

It was all for the good of the collective. There were no personal feelings involved here because he had been told and accepted as fact that he couldn't _have_ personal feelings. He was definitely _not_ doing this because he had grown attached to being followed everywhere by the same familiar face, or because he knew that he was the only one that that could get through to him.

Nothing major. Nothing at all.

He exhaled softly and shook his head and ignored the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that told him he was missing the point. The point was, he decided, that he was getting pretty damn good at denial.

* * *

Riku watched speechlessly as the person below him fought elegantly against so many Heartless. He was still trying to convince himself that what he had seen had just been his overactive imagination. 

_There's no way…_

But he knew that it was the only effective weapon against a Heartless, and judging by the way the horde was slowly dissipating, they couldn't have been anything else.

_Keyblades._

Now that he had found what was obviously his "key," there was no way that he was not going to return without it. If the person was really capable of wielding a Keyblade, he would probably have to fight, and to fight he needed a weapon.

He watched below, and suddenly saw his golden moment of opportunity. Taking deep breath, reassuring himself that he was really going to do it, he backed up a few steps. Without warning, he ran forward, and dove headfirst off of the edge of the platform.

As he fell from the top of the building, he kept his eyes focused on the small dark blur in the distance, ignoring the alarming speed at which he was descending and how fast the ground seemed to be rushing up at him. The closer he got to his target, the slower time seemed to move until it felt like he was floating in midair. Cautiously, he reached out with his right hand and firmly grasped the blade at its hilt. Suddenly, as if it was making up for lost time, the ground rushed at him even faster than it had been before. Pulling his feet to a position under his body as quickly as possible, he was surprised to find that he had landed on the ground with two feet firmly planted to the concrete.

As soon as he landed there was a small group of Heartless that had arrived to greet him. With not nearly enough time to catch his bearings, he swung the blade haphazardly around himself in an effort to make them back off long enough for the world to stop spinning.

* * *

The last thing that he had expected to see when he looked up was a body plummeting from the sky. He made no motion to try and catch the person, but simply stood there and watched him fall. Honestly, he could have really cared less about who it was or why they were suddenly dropping out of the sky, but for some reason his eyes followed the motion all the way to impact. 

He had assumed that anyone who had fallen from such a height would surely be dead before they reached the ground, and was more than stunned when the person landed on both feet. As he began to move closer to investigate, he belatedly noticed that in the last minute or so, no Heartless had tried to attack him. They had all migrated, moved closer to-

_No…what a stupid idea…_

Yellow light glinted off of a black metal surface in the distance and a few Heartless went up in little puffs of smoke.

_There's no way…_

The only way to make sure was to go and find out. He smiled overconfidently, and dashed toward the solid wall of Heartless between him and his target. Just as he came to the first Shadow he turned his feet sideways to slide through the teeming mass of yellow eyes and buggy antennae, carving a straight, neat path to his destination. He skidded to a stop, and an icy weight slid across his neck. He reflexively turned his head in the direction of the attack and thrust Oathkeeper out to the right to counter and the biting metal chafed against his skin. Following the line of Oblivion to the person holding it, he saw taller boy with silver hair and an outfit much like his own giving him a piercing, standoffish glare. For a few moments there was silence, but then the boy spoke.

"We fight these guys off, and then you're coming with me."

Roxas froze for a second before acting impulsively. Suddenly, he twisted his right arm over and around the top of the other boy's arm, and caught him by the bicep. Before the boy had time to break the grip, he spun to his left and delivered a kick squarely to his jaw. Stunned, the silver-haired boy fell backward onto the pavement. Before getting back up to his feet, he paused to spit the blood out of his mouth and to wipe the dribble off of his chin with his sleeve.

In the time that it had taken for the other boy to rise back to his feet, Roxas had already been bombarded by more Heartless. Undoubtedly, they had been temporarily confused by the sudden change in Keyblade ownership. Now however they had decided as a group that it didn't really matter, and that they would assault whichever one was closest.

Fighting Shadows was simple enough – they always attacked in groups and used the same tactics over and over again – but the boy was a different story. Since he had gotten up, he had been fighting off his own set of Heartless, and hadn't bothered with a counterattack. The amateurish vertigo-induced strokes that he had seen before had all but vanished, and had been replaced by technique nearly as polished as his.

Though Roxas wasn't exactly sure who the boy was or what he was doing here, he had to admit that his help against the Heartless was more than welcome, even if they turned out to enemies in the end. The bright turquoise eyes and silver hair stirred something in his memory, but he couldn't remember exactly what it was that seemed so familiar. It was something important….perhaps. Frustratingly, the more he tried to think about it, the less he could recall. He struck down the nearest Heartless with an emphatic, indignant blow. He had used more force than had been strictly necessary, but he didn't really notice or care.

* * *

A step backwards, a step to the side. Another step backwards, another step to the side. The repetitive rhythm was comforting. 

By the time he had refocused on the battle, he had moved a considerable amount backwards from where he had stood previously. He destroyed the last Heartless near him, and started to take a step backward. Looking over his shoulder, he found that the two of them had somehow wound up back-to-back. The Heartless on his side were gone as well. He took a quick three-sixty just to make sure. They were all gone.

A muscle twitched tentatively in Riku's arm proactively. Neither of them moved, and so he took his chance to steal the initiative. Just as his "key" had turned to back away, Riku spun around with an upward slash, hoping to catch him off guard.

He tried to fling Oathkeeper in front of his face just before the blade reached it, but his reflexes were too slow. Roxas took a blow to the jaw and blood gushed out the other side of his mouth, splattering the black leather and black pavement with little red droplets. After a slight struggle, he managed to block the next attack and tried to move backwards out of range. Riku willingly let Roxas evade the next attack, but brought his next stroke down sharply to his waist. It narrowly missed Roxas's knees.

So far, Roxas's strategy of quickly dodging each attack as it came had been working. It was all right for the time being, but he knew that eventually he would tire or become cornered, leaving him with no options. However the rapid succession of blows directed at him gave him little to no chance at returning the offensive. All that he needed was a single flaw, a single break in the flow of motion. One mistake was all it would take for him to gain the upper hand.

Breaking his pattern of left-right swipes, Riku suddenly began striking at Roxas's face again. After a few close calls, Roxas managed to throw Oathkeeper out in front of himself. When they realized that they were caught in the same power struggle as before, both of them poured more and more of their strength into keeping the status quo. Baring his teeth, Roxas pushed everything he had left into breaking the bind between the blades. He felt Oblivion yield slightly and looked up into turquoise eyes, smiling smugly. Riku met his gaze and sent an overconfident smirk back.

For the split-second just before his wrist gave way, he could have sworn that Roxas's eyes glowed an incandescent yellow. Oblivion was sheared from his hand and sent skidding over the puddle-riddled pavement. He winced not only at the pain, but also the combined sounds of screeching metal against metal and the soft popping as each bone in his wrist cracked in turn. Weaponless, he had no hope of regaining his former advantage.

Roxas charged and gave an upward slash to Riku's chest, throwing him into the air. Almost simultaneously, he leapt into the air to deliver his finishing move. He hurled Oathkeeper, and Riku helplessly tumbled to the pavement face down. As Roxas landed, he skidded to a slow stop.

Roxas could see him still twitching slightly, which was good. He hadn't wanted the boy dead; incapacitated or nearly so would do. His rage was intense, but it had its limits. Cautiously, he approached the body sprawled over the pavement and walked over to pick Oathkeeper up off the ground. Now that he was no longer in a life-threatening situation, the wheels of thought had again begun to turn in his brain.

He had noticed earlier that the boy was dressed in full Organization regalia. To his knowledge, there was no member that looked quite like him; that is, unless the group had been recruiting. He got the nagging feeling that he should know who the boy was, but just couldn't place him. He had seen that face before, he _knew_ that boy, but he was sure that this was the first time they had ever seen each other. It was a strange feeling of nostalgia that accompanied those teal eyes. His thoughts drifted to another person with similarly colored eyes. Perhaps that was all, just his subconscious playing mind-games with him.

Of course there was no way to know a person without having met them before.

However, the one question that he kept on coming back to was the same as his own: Why was he able to wield a Keyblade? The question brought to mind memories and issues that he wished would disappear. He could feel a new virulent animosity gather beneath his breast. An existence of bitterness, skepticism, animosity, purpose and so-called "destiny" rested on those eight small words.

* * *

Droplets of rain stung his face as he lay prostrate on the cold, hard pavement, unable to move except for the occasional involuntary muscle spasm. A dull pain coursed through his body from several newly broken bones and countless scrapes, scuffs and cuts that had punctured, sliced and peeled away layers of flesh and skin. Fresh, warm blood pooled in his mouth and dribbled uncontrollably down his chin. Each time he tried to draw in a breath, all he inhaled was the excess liquid in his mouth, resulting in a coughing, sputtering mess instead of breathing and deep, sporadic gasps for air. 

He could barely see out of his half-opened eyelids, and the gentle ebb of sleep was slowly chipping away at his flow of consciousness. It was so tempting to just give up and give in; all he had to do was close his eyes and everything would disappear, all his problems would be solved. He had tried that once before, and this is where he had gotten him. He refused to fall for that trick again.

The stinging cold of driving rain and the rising taste of bile in his mouth were the sole things keeping him latched onto consciousness. Sputtering out the overbearing and unpleasant metallic aftertaste of blood and bile, he managed to summon enough strength to look upward at the person looming above him. From any other angle, it would have been impossible to see the face under the oversized hood, but his face was quite clear from the vantage point at which he lay.

There was silence between the two as they both stared questioningly at each other. The one on the concrete made the mistake of trying to speak, which only caused him to begin to choke on his own fluids. As soon as a half-groan of protest left his lips, the cool sensation of metal met the underside of his chin, digging into his skin ever so slightly just to remind him who was in control of this situation. A soft white glow emanated from the blade in stark contrast to the falling gloaming of their surroundings.

"Why are you able to wield a Keyblade?"

He vaguely heard speech, but couldn't quite make it out. Even if he had understood the question, there was no way he could have responded. His previous attempts at speech had not been successful.

Combined with the considerably dulled senses of one on the brink of death, the incandescence blurred his surroundings into a confusing hodgepodge of swirling colors. Blue, gold, brown, silver and black melded together and his eyes slid in and out of focus, making the features of the other boy fuzz together into one indistinguishable mess. Below him and all around him it was black and silent, but above, the artificial white, pink, blue and yellow glow of electricity and neon convulsed and combined with the silver wash of moonlight. His brain had trouble dealing with the sensory overload and proceeded to go into shutdown-mode, causing a searing, rhythmic pain right above his eyes.

"Answer me!"

As the face before him continued to shift in and out of focus, he slowly gave up.

Distracted by all of the chaos surrounding him, he suddenly realized that he had forgotten to breathe. However when he tried to do so, all that he could manage was to expel the rest of the contents of his mouth and stomach onto the ground below him. His insides heaved one more time, and he almost choked while involuntarily swallowing everything back down again.

A small bead of blood had begun to swell on the underside of his chin where biting metal had chewed into his skin. While he had been busy trying not to asphyxiate, the blade had not moved from its original position. With each time he fell to the ground gasping for air or spewing out the contents of his stomach, the wound on his neck had become deeper and deeper, creating an angry swath of red against his pale skin. The vestiges of blood on the side of his chin and jaw had already caked onto his skin, adding to the patina of sweat and icy rain already there. A thin rivulet of warmth slid slowly down the remainder of his neck as several more tiny, gleaming crimson beads began to form.

Between the blood loss and nausea, nothing seemed stable any more. As he slipped further and further away, the pavement swayed back and forth, and he lost the little grip that he had on the rest of the world. Even though the scene in front of him undulated unceasingly, the hooded boy stood firmer and taller than ever in front of him. Why was there something about that face that was pulling at the back of his memory? His vision had somewhat sorted itself out, but all he could make out were two bright blue circle he assumed were eyes against a dull background wash of blacks, browns and grays.

"If you've got nothing to tell me, that's fine. I'll just leave you here."

Without warning, the less than gentle pressure under the curve of his face holding him up slightly from the pavement was sharply withdrawn. He found himself collapsing the few short inches to the ground gracelessly and landed with a loud, hollow sound, as if his soul had already left him and only a few wispy vestiges of life remained. The rough gravelly pavement chafed his cheek, but he could move no further than before, so there he lay.

That face, those eyes….he had seen them before, he should know that face. As it clicked in his brain, sea green eyes widened slightly with recognition. His lips parted slightly as he tried to speak one more time. All he could manage was a pitiful hissing noise.

"SSSSssss…" His crude attempts at speech warranted a disdainful and condescending laugh from the hooded boy. Riku wasn't sure if he had been disgusted, amused or a little bit of both. He squatted down on his knees to look Riku in the eyes.

"So you have got something to say after all."

"SSSSsss…" He paused to cough up a few drops of blood.

"Hmph. How pathetic." Roxas shook his head in severe disappointment and turned to stand up again when Riku attempted speech for one last try.

"SSSSssss….sor…"

Sor?

Was "Sora" what he had been trying to say?

He shouldn't have wasted his breath. During his brief stint in the Organization, he had heard more than he could stand about his do-no-wrong Other. He and Sora were _not_ the same person. He was Roxas; Sora was Sora. From what he had heard about Sora from the others, they were just about as polar opposite as possible. If this boy was trying to call him "Sora," that meant that he had to have known Sora previously. Roxas racked his brain as he tried to remember the bits of conversation he had overheard between the other members.

Cold blue eyes narrowed as the hooded boy made an exaggerated point of wiping the caked blood off of his face. He turned around and stood up in a slow and controlled manner. It was much too late for Riku to attempt to grope for the fallen blade beside him and he knew it, but perhaps if the purple, black and silver would stop moving so much, he could at least try. The boy's back was turned and it was now or never. He had weakly moved his fingertips only a few centimeters before the other boy suddenly lashed out at him.

"Sora?! Goddammit, that's_ **not** _my name!"

Before he could stop himself or try to curb his emotional involvement, he focused his frustration into the hard leather boot that slammed into Riku's ribs. The sound of snapping bones was almost completely drowned out by the scream of pain from hitting broken bones and the creation of new fractures. Coupled with the intense exhaustion and strain on his muscles, it elicited a sharp cry from his lips, along with the last few drops of blood still left in his stomach, mouth, and lungs.

As he fell limp to the concrete, a warm sensation began to overwhelm him. It was comfortable, soothing and painless, and he could feel his toes tingling with the bubbly feeling. As he slowly eased in to his new state of mind, it seemed like he was perfectly capable of anything. Without any feeling at all, he could stand up, and did. Looking down, he saw his limp nearly lifeless body below him and grimaced at what he saw. It was more than unsettling, and he wondered how things had ever gotten to this bad. He hadn't thought it was possible for someone to look so miserable. Watching from above like he was no longer a passenger in his own body, he saw his eyelids slowly flutter closed and winced as his breathing hitched and then groaned before settling into the slow, death-like grip that had befallen him.

* * *

Relief washed over him when he got to the square and saw a familiar shape standing in the shadows. 

_Just because now I don't have to go to all of that trouble… right?_

Axel hesitated before proceeding any further. There had to be a reason why Roxas was still here. He briefly hoped that it was because he had finally realized that what he was doing was an act of adolescent stupidity. It was wishful thinking, and he knew that. Roxas had stuck around for a reason, a _real_ reason. However as to what that reason might be, he had no idea. A little corner of his brain wanted to think that it was for him.

Ridiculous. He knew better than that. It was comforting for him to think that Roxas needed him in some way, but he had recently discovered that it was more the other way around. Roxas acted almost scarily adult considering that he had only been created little more than a year ago. For a kid, Roxas had always acted nonchalant and mature– he had to be– but this whole fiasco was getting way out of hand.

If Roxas didn't want to hear what he had to say, he would make him. He hadn't wanted to push the issue before, but now he really had nothing else to lose. Axel was confident, perhaps overly so, that if worst came to worst he could knock some sense into his empty skull by means of force. He just hoped that it wouldn't come to that.

Axel planned the next step he took very carefully. With a defiant stomp, he splashed the small puddle in front of him. It was an easy and understated way to attract attention, and better than speaking because he knew that Roxas would just play devil's advocate to whatever tried to say. Roxas wasn't stupid, and he would quickly figure out the only person that would bother to come after him or even knew that he was leaving.

* * *

The rain had begun to let up, and when he looked up at the starless black sky he could see without drops constantly falling into his eyes. Looking at the mangled pile of flesh on the ground in front of him, he began to consider that perhaps he had gone a little overboard. He knew the boy wasn't dead because his chest still moved up and down slightly, but there was no way that he could still be conscious. 

He let Oathkeeper slide out of his hand, and it dematerialized before it hit the pavement. What he needed was just a few minutes to breathe and some time to relax. He hadn't noticed before how hard he had been breathing, being mainly preoccupied with violence. Even though most of the moisture had sluiced off of his heavy leather coat, his face and bangs were saturated. Reaching down to a puddle that had formed next to him, he cupped his hands to take some of the cold, pure rainwater. Most of it ran through his fingers and he raised his hands back up to his lips, but there was still enough left in his hands for at least a few gulps. He drank greedily; he was more tired than he expected.

Roxas exhaled deeply and stopped. Something behind him had made a sound. There was no soft cooing, and the swish that he heard wasn't like the noise that Dusks made. Instead, it was the sound of a heavy footstep against the pavement and the faint splashing sound of water. He frowned.

"Leave. Now."

There was no need to turn around to confirm his suspicions. The only reason that Axel had come after him now was for his own selfish reasons. He had said himself that he would be sad if Roxas left, but he hadn't even considered what Roxas had been and was still feeling. He hadn't bothered to see his side of the argument and had thought only of himself. Roxas resented the indifference to his problems that Axel had shown earlier and refused to acknowledge his presence by turning around.

"And what if I say no? You think you can make me?"

There was a hint of playful taunting in his voice, but the tone mainly came off as backlash. It wasn't exactly what Axel had intended, but now that the words had left his lips there was no going back. He got the unsettling feeling that this conversation was headed in entirely the wrong direction.

Roxas looked at the body that lay at his feet, trying to figure out what hell he was going to do with it now. If he left the boy here, he'd probably die. More likely than not, the boy had the same questions as himself and if he was lucky, some of the answers. If the boy ended up dying on him, he would never get them. Unfortunately, he was in no state to speak much less do anything else.

Just killing him right now would certainly make things simpler, but then he would have to satiate his curiosity the hard way. That seemed like a waste of effort when everything could be lying at his feet, literally. It would be enough to just get what he wanted and abandon the kid on some godforsaken world. He grinned sardonically to himself. First he had to concentrate on getting off of _this_ godforsaken world.

Roxas could have returned the banal banter with a clever retort of his own, but he was just too tired of it all to even bother.

"No," was his curt, one-word response.

This had dragged out much too long anyway. Before Axel could get a word in edgewise, Roxas raised his arm out to the side and flicked his wrist at the empty air. A small sphere of purple and black appeared out of nowhere and grew just large enough so that he could walk through it.

The body had proved too heavy for him to lift, especially because he was still partially exhausted. Instead, he took both of the boy's arms and dragged him across the pavement, and heaved his limp body through the portal. Back still turned, he wordlessly followed into to black abyss.

While things progressed from bad to worse, Axel had stood there speechless. He had foolishly hoped that by "no," Roxas had meant that he had given in and was willing to come back. He should have expected that what he meant when he said "no" was actually a very messed up form of "goodbye." It had been less than a minute since the Corridor had closed, but he still couldn't come to terms with the fact that Roxas was gone, and that now he was completely alone. Alone. That word had such a chilly finality to it, and he shivered slightly in the cold and the rain.

* * *

_Some Quick Notes:_

So, that's where I decided to cut the first installment. Trust me, this is going to be a long one, so try to cut me some slack. I've been working off and on on this particular story for I'd say well over eight months now, but I've been trying to piece together a coherent decently IC KH2 story since January of '06. (I got a headstart on the fandom from some Japanese knowledge) I've had this general portion of the Deep Dive rewrite for I'd say 6 months, and the rest has been ruthless editing and severe self-criticism. I just hope it paid off.

Next chapter will begin with a visit to a familiar place under some not-so-familiar circumstances. To all those concerned (if there's even anyone who reads this) Riku stays more or less incapacitated for a good long while, even under tender, loving care. Meanwhile, Roxas tries and fails pretty hard at adapting to his new surroundings. Oh what a long road it is indeed...

Until then - reviews welcomed voraciously with vim and vigor! (Go alliteration!) **Especially** concrit. I know that my writing is relative crap, so tell me how I should try to improve:D

Till next time  
geo


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